


the mess inside

by novakid



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Lots of home-brewed backstory from me to you., M/M, Post-Canon, past (unhealthy) kepler/jacobi implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novakid/pseuds/novakid
Summary: he doesn't "get" you, but he's patient. and that's all you need.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> these chapters will be short as hell, focusing on ideas, thoughts, and dialogues.  
> we'll see what happens. not really planning this out.

"You want to hear a story, Eiffel?"

Daniel's at a train station, waiting for his train back home. Not directly back home, a stop on the way. He doesn't like that he has to get off of multiple stops, but it serves him right for never learning how to drive. Or not taking Doug's offer to drive him to work. Not his job; Daniel makes, delivers, and sets up fireworks for a living now. Freelance work. Not as big, fancy, or important as what he used to do. But work is work, and that’s hard for him to come by nowadays. 

Now, he’s waiting for his next train. Sitting on the bench with his phone, face-timing his roommate. Whose brows are furrowed and his head is tilted. “A story?”

“Yeah, a story.” Daniel clicks his tongue. “People like stories. It’s a very… human thing, right?”

“You think stories are just for humans?”

He hums a bit before shrugging. Biting gently at the tip of his tongue. Pretending to think. “I don’t know if aliens like Bob are into stories. I’m not talking about them, though.”

“Tell me what you’re talking about, Jacobi.” Doug sounds tired. Daniel has no clue as to why; it’s about 8pm for them both. They’ve gotten use to the hot air in their crummy town. (The same town Renée and her husband live in, the one that Hera’s inhabiting. Close enough for Doug to visit often, but far enough away that they aren’t annoyed by Daniel’s antics. “Antics” meaning, being  _ that guy _ and setting off fireworks at 2am for  _ no reason _ .) 

Despite Doug’s apparent exasperation, Daniel continues. “I mean. You know. Stories. People love that shit. You love that shit. Narratives in the form of movies and TV shows and comics and radio plays. Everyone loves Norman Rockwell, but no one loves Barnett Newman.”

“Barnett  _ who _ -man?”

“Exactly.” The corners of Daniel’s lips twitch.

“That’s not saying much, considering my-”

“Believe me, Eiffel. You wouldn’t have known him before you lost your memories. Unless you were into modern art. Y’see, Ol’ Barnett made this huge painting. It captures… red oil paint with a few lines going down it.  _ Vir Heroicus Sublimis _ , it’s called. ”

“Sounds exciting.” Doug says, unimpressed. “That’s why people don’t get modern art-”

“The piece is about eight feet by eighteen feet. More or less.” Silence from Doug. Daniel continues, “Vir Heroicus Sublimis means _ man, heroic, sublime _ . Emphasis on the sublime. You’re suppose to go up to this thing in the museum and be awestruck- absolutely enveloped in the size and grandeur of the thing. It’s the kind of piece that changes lives. Changes the way art is made. And Norman Rockwell? I mean, he’s good at what he does. But it’s just a bunch of storybook illustrations that, in the end, only ever really profited advertisements and capitalism. And why? Because his illustrations have narrative. And we love that shit. Humans are just drawn to stories. We hear one and we wake the hell up. It’s why people love movies. Drama. History. It’s all stories.”

Doug is quiet throughout, and even a few moments after Daniel finishes speaking. As if he’s waiting for him to keep talking. 

He does, “One time I lost $13,000 dollars on a stupid ebay scam.”

“ _ Wh- what?! _ ”

Daniel smiles. “ So, around my first or second year serving under Colonel Kepler, he told me about this really old book series. He likes stories, if you don’t remember. But not the fun stories. More like the boring history war stories, or the crazy made up ones that make him sound cool. He liked to go on about how humans as a species just loved stories and would drop whatever attention they were paying to something else when they heard a story- anyway. There was this old book series. It was this Sci-fi adventure? But it was written as if it was one of those war stories? But, all of that was a cover for it ACTUALLY being about philosophy. You know the kind?”

Doug only grinned and shrugged, and Daniel went on. “I’m thinking to myself, Major, you’re a scotch-drinking old man who can’t tell his ass from his balls, what the hell are you saying.” But on my second deep space mission, he lends me one of the books. Well, not one of the books. An excerpt of the book that a local library would print out to get you hooked And damn, did I get hooked.”

“Before then, I never really felt connected to a story like I did with this one. I could really see myself in that protagonist’s shoes. You know, exploring space, feeling the expanding eternity and this striking feeling of  _ forever _ , but feeling okay with that because he shared his journey with his gay lover. I was enraptured.”

“So, when I get home, I go on eBay. I fully intended on trying to find the whole series. And the only listing was…. probably about $2000, give or take. I’m like. Sure. I’ll get all these for myself and that’ll make up for the next seven birthdays. I bid, and immediately after I do? Someone else bids a few dollars higher. Which commences a bidding war for the next two days; I got no sleep. I won at a good ol’ $13,000. And guess what takes eleven months to arrive? A fan made  _ sitcom transcript  _ version of the series. Turns out the seller mistranslated their description. There was some bullshit going on and I couldn’t get my money back. The next day, I’m looking all depressed and Kepler asks me what’s wrong. I tell him, and he offers to lend me the whole entire series  _ that he has!” _

“Jesus, Jacobi.” Doug says, with a bewildered expression on his dumb, handsome face.

“Yeah.”

_ “Jesus.” _

“What can I say? People love stories.”

“Hah, I guess. It says a lot about you. Really enlightening.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “It says I’m an impulsive idiot who doesn’t know when to quit?”

Doug just smiles and shakes his head. “I was thinking… it shows how passionate you are.”


	2. INTERMISSION I

Daniel learned how to ride a bike when he was eleven. Late for boys his age, his mom use to say with exasperation. Not that she cared- she hardly even spoke to Daniel while she was home from work. But he would eavesdrop while she was on the phone, talking about him to her friends whose kids were learning how to roller skates, taking up on soccer, or learning how to ride bikes without their training wheels. He remembers the disappointed sigh from her mouth when she was asked about her son. “We just don’t know what’s wrong with him. He refuses to get on it, even with training wheels.”

It wasn’t that he afraid to ride a bike. He just didn’t want to. He wasn’t interested. Daniel used to be very particular with what he did and didn’t do. Didn’t ride bikes or play with the other boys. Didn’t drink apple juice if he was eating hot food. Didn’t want to wear shoes that weren’t red. Simple things, he thought. 

His father, however, thought otherwise. 

He gave Daniel a hard time for not wanting to ride a bike. He’d yell and make a scene.  _ “I’m trying to help you grow up, what the hell is wrong with you?” _ he’d say.  _ “I’m doing this for you.” _ he’d say after slapping the shit out of him.

He kept the bike in the shed. It came in handy after awhile; Daniel taught himself when he was eleven when his parents decided to stop giving him car rides to and from school. He got sick of walking and hated the other kids on the bus, so he picked up that bike and caught on fast. His father said nothing when he told him. 

A week later, his father insisted on him joining a sports team. Said he would sign him up. It continued on like a vicious cycle. He wanted to teach Daniel how to hunt, how to fix a car, how to camp. He hated it. He hated his father’s conception of manhood. Hated hunting, hated cars, hated camping and booze and black coffee. 

Most of all, he hated the military. 

More than anything, his father insisted to join the Airforce after high school. Wanted him to join ROTC. It seemed that this was what his father wanted from Daniel out of everything else. 

So one day, junior year of high school, Daniel decided to try and join ROTC. He still remembers that day; heading to the recruitment office, walking up to the recruiter, and…

Apologizing and walking out. 

And that was the end of that. He couldn’t do it. 

When he was denied from the Airforce because of his eyesight, his father wouldn’t look at him for a week. Wouldn’t have a full conversation with him for a month. 

And he didn’t say anything when Daniel got a job in weapon’s R&D.

Daniel and his father stopped speaking after his accident costing two lives and his left arm. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s late at night when Daniel finally arrives home. Doug is asleep, no doubt. Daniel lets himself in and wanders into the kitchen. Makes himself a sandwich and drinks a beer. Three, four, five beers. Doug doesn’t drink. Daniel doesn’t try to make a habit of it- he doesn’t like alcohol.

But he’s drinking. Feeling melancholic and alone. He’s only been away from home for a week, but it feels like a month. Talking to strangers and sleeping in motels. He feels touch starved. 

It isn’t as if Daniel was getting much physical attention before he left. Just pats on the back. Doug’s hand on his arm when he shows Daniel a video on his phone. Their shoulders touching when they watch movies together, and his head on his shoulder… Admittedly, that’s quite a bit. 

But his chest aches with longing now though, where it hadn’t before. He finishes his last beer and changes into a t-shirt and boxers. Daniel feels light and warm when he wanders to Doug’s room. Collapses into his bed beside him, maybe jabs his elbow into his chest on accident. It wakes him up, but Daniel doesn’t pay much attention. He spreads out on top of the bed, on top of Doug. 

Doug’s noise twitches. “You smell like beer.”

Daniel huffs in response and presses his face into Doug’s chest. Solid and warm. “Probably cause I drank beer.”

Comfortable silence. Daniel basks in it. He feels a gentle hand thread through his hair, rubbing his scalp. Doug begins to hum, and his chest vibrates as he does, nearly lulling Daniel to sleep. He tries not to, he wants to stay awake to savour the moment. Savour the feeling. Maybe that’s the buzz talking. 

Doug must have seen Daniel try to fight to keep his eyelids open, because he laughs and murmurs, “You can sleep here, if you want. I give you my permission.”

“Wasn’t asking for it, Eiffel.” Daniel looks up at him by resting his chin on Doug’s chest. Grinning like a tool, perhaps. It has to be, because he’s smiling back. And staring. “What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had like… three or five beers.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s true!”

“Why else would you be in my room, annoying me?” Doug says in a playful voice, but it brings heat to Daniel’s cheeks. Heat that he wishes was the booze’s fault. “Oh, what is it?” And Daniel knows that voice; it’s sly and mischievous. “You miss me or somethin’, baby?”

His face grows hotter. It felt like a fever washing over his whole body. His mind screams at him:  _ He’s just teasing you, Jacobi, don’t get flustered over that. _ Daniel can’t help it. He has a soft spot for handsome men with broad shoulders, stubble on their chins, and light in their eyes.  _ And he called you baby, too. You’re in for it now.  _

“Miss you? What? No.” What a mistake. Everyone knows how bad of a liar Daniel is. It’s worse when he’s drunk and can’t stop smiling. “I don't miss you. I’m just drunk.”

“Oh, so  _ now  _ you’re drunk?” Doug smirks and Daniel’s heart flies out from his fucking chest. He feels two firm arms wrap around his waist. Pulls him tighter into the embrace. A hug. It’s chaste. 

Daniel is on fucking fire.

“Eiffel.” He whimpers. “Doug.” His shaking hands, one flesh and one metal, gently grip on Doug’s shirt. 

“Doug? What’s got you on a first name basis?” Daniel wants to kiss that smug look off his face. More than that? He wants to punch it.

Doug is just playing around. He’s having fun. This is a joke to him, Daniel knows it. He holds onto Doug tighter and says nothing. Hiding his face, holding onto dear life. 

“Jacobi…” He can hear the grin in his voice. It’s intoxicating. Daniel can’t bring himself to say anything. A few seconds go by- or maybe a few minutes? Or an hour? This moment here with Doug feels like an eternity. “Daniel?”

He looks up with wet eyes. Doug’s smile is gone, and he’s looking at him with a soft and concerned expression. Daniel’s at a loss for words. He feels bile rising up his throat. What does he say? Something stupid, like: “I lied.” It’s low, soft, and out of his mouth before he can stop it. “I did miss you. A lot. I don’t know why I said I didn’t. Except that I do know, and I don’t know why I’m telling you I miss you now. But I do.” Drinking was a bad idea. Coming into Doug’s room was a bad idea.  _ Coming home was a bad idea. _ “I just want to lie down with you forever.”

His hands, still trembling, are taken into Doug’s. They lay there like that for awhile, just looking at each other, before Doug finally speaks up. “We can lay down. I don’t know about forever, but we can lay down.”

He pulls Daniel back down into his embrace and holds on tightly, not allowing him the opportunity to float up and away from him. Not that Daniel ever would. 

He wants this. He needs this. Daniel lays his weary head on Doug’s chest and easily drifts to sleep.


	4. INTERMISSION II

For Daniel, finding people who truly understand him is hard. Creating connections with other people is hard. Which isn't to say that he hasn't found or made any...

Avery was his first. They lived on the same street and walked home together from middle school. They decided to date in secret during their first year of high school. Avery liked Daniel because he was funny and cute. Daniel liked Avery because he was smart and good at dodge ball. They both liked each other because they were the only other gay boys they knew, and basking in the warmth that was each other's company made them feel invincible. Like everything that their parents, or their classmates, or the television said was _wrong_ and that they wouldn't die alone and unhappy and unloved. Three days after their first kiss, Avery broke up with Daniel. Said he couldn't do it. Said that he was afraid. Sophomore year, Daniel tormented and bullied Avery until he transferred to a different school.

He met Monty in college. They shared a class together, and were always the last ones to leave the study group. Sometimes they wouldn't leave. Monty was the one who taught Daniel what passion was. In the moment kisses, hasty hands on hot skin, and the feeling of moist lips in tender spots. And Monty understood him. Understood his jokes, his humour. Understood the pressure from his hyper-masculine father, the mother that didn't take him seriously, and the feeling of being all alone. Daniel fell hard and fast. Offered to buy dinner. Offered to pay his rent. Paid for their winter break vacation. Paid for his plane ticket back home for the summer. Daniel called, he really did. He called and called and called. Monty never picked up. He texted:  _I miss you. I need you. I love you. Where are you? Why aren't you answering me? I hate you. I wish I never met you. You're horrible. Die in a ditch. I hope you're happy. Kill yourself._ No answer. Daniel spent that summer alone.

Klein was nice. Klein was easy. Klein was a break from the stress that his Major placed on his shoulders. Klein was sweet. He understood working for Gorddard Futuristics. Working under pressure. Working with the best, being the best. Klein was the best. Daniel wasn't. His fault. It was his fault. His anger, his temper, his drama. They only ever kissed. Never spoke about it. Daniel wish he had. He should have. He would have, if it weren't for everything holding him back. "Maybe once you've settled all that, we can try... us. But until then, I'll still be your friend." Daniel wanted that. So much. He wanted to take Klein up on that promise, but he didn't. They were friends, and then, because of Daniel's bitterness, they weren't. 

It was Warren's fault. It was his teasing, his cruelty, him leading Daniel on. Warren Kepler hit Daniel like a freight train. Picking Daniel up from that bar on that sad day, whipping him back into shape, and taking every opportunity to tear him down just so Warren could build him back up again, stronger and denser. And Christ, did Warren love to tear Daniel down. Reduce him to pieces in the most sadistic, but refined, of ways. Rip him apart like wet paper, and find a way to glue him all back again. Somehow, stronger and better. It wasn't long until he turned Daniel into his perfect black ops attack dog. It wasn't long until Daniel was ready to lay his life on the line for his superior officer. Warren understood a lot of things. A lot more than Daniel did. He understood how people like Daniel worked. Understood how to fix them, to tweak them, and to drive them. He understood that people like Daniel needed to be directed. That they had a lot of raw power, but needed something to put them on a path to be productive. He understood that people like Daniel needed a drive, and needed orders, and needed someone to guide them to see the _big picture_. He was always more than happy to show him. To keep him. Until he couldn't.

Daniel was an only child, and Alana felt like one. But the moment they met each other, like witchcraft, they felt a bond tug at their chests that Daniel could only ever describe as " _soulmates, but like... for siblings_." Twins. They had to be separated from birth, they had to be. Alana was good with computers. She was good at talking to computers, and good at _not talking_ to humans. Daniel understood. He looked at her and remembered all the abrasion, all the lashing out, all the roughhousing he did with people he cared about- He knew he wasn't suppose to be like that. Looking back? Avery, Monty, Klein. Daniel was a ticking time bomb, vibrating with raw energy, raw anger. Tick tick tick, ticking away and exploding any second, time bomb that took anyone out in its blast. He thought he was broken, until he met her. Giving people, nice people, the cold shoulder in favour of talking to her toys. Laughing at other people's misfortune out of pure lack of genuine empathy rather than malice. But she took the time to try for people who deserved it. Patient and kind, wonderfully funny and smart. How could Daniel be broken, when he felt her reflection in him, when she _wasn't_ broken. She eased his tension, cut all the right wires, and cooled him down. In return, Daniel helped her out of her shell. Encouraged her. Spoke to her. Gave her the time of day even when she couldn't. 

Daniel ruined that one the worst way he could have. 

He still talks to Renée. Isabel. Hera, occasionally. They're nice, and they're patient. But they don't take the time to get him. To understand him. Daniel isn't sure if he wants to wait around and try to understand them either. 

And Doug...

Doug is an exception. They live together, they have so much time to understand each other. And Daniel can see it. He can see Doug trying. That means more than Daniel can even put into words, because hell knows that he doesn't deserve Doug's patience. Or any of their patience, kindness, understanding.

Daniel wants it. He wants so bad for their friendship. Their companionship. A connection. 

But he doesn't deserve it.

No. People like Daniel Jacobi don't deserve happy endings. Or to be satisfied with their lives. Bad guys don't deserve that. They don't _get_ that. The good guys are suppose to win in the end and live and be happy. People like Doug, Renée, Isabel, Hera. And out of all the bad guys that could have made it out, why isn't it Alana? The most redeemable out of their crew?

Why is Daniel here?


End file.
